


i'd be the prom queen (if crying was a contest)

by lesbianrobin



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Background Tammy Thompson, Gen, Light Angst, Platonic Soulmates, Prom, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianrobin/pseuds/lesbianrobin
Summary: “Your 1985 Prom King is, drumroll please..!”Kids pound their legs and any nearby tables, some stomping wildly in place and others simply screaming until the noise bouncing around inside the gym seems to make her bones rattle. Robin halfheartedly pats her thighs along to the horrendously out of sync drumroll, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. It’s going to be him. It’s going to be him, and she’s going to lose what’s left of her sanity, and then since he’s single now he’ll take Tammy home and they’ll have gross sex and he’ll definitely suck at it and Robin could totally do better even though she’s never kissed anyone before. She’d just be better by default because Steve sucks.(or; an alternate meeting)
Relationships: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington
Comments: 13
Kudos: 170





	i'd be the prom queen (if crying was a contest)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birthdaycandles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birthdaycandles/gifts).



“Your 1985 Prom King is, drumroll please..!”

Kids pound their legs and any nearby tables, some stomping wildly in place and others simply screaming until the noise bouncing around inside the gym seems to make her bones rattle. Robin halfheartedly pats her thighs along to the horrendously out of sync drumroll, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. It’s going to be him. It’s going to be him, and she’s going to lose what’s left of her sanity, and then since he’s single now he’ll take Tammy home and they’ll have gross sex and he’ll definitely suck at it and Robin could totally do better even though she’s never kissed anyone before. She’d just be better by default because Steve sucks.

“Steeeeve Harrington!”

The room erupts in a cacophonous mix of cheers and taunts. Robin drains the last of her punch as they lower the crown over his stupid hair, and for what certainly won’t be the last time tonight, she wishes that it had occurred to her to sneak in alcohol before she’d already arrived and gotten a peek at Christina Brown’s “hidden” flask. 

“Woo!”

“Yeah, Stevie-boy!”

“Aw, fuck off!”

“Homo!”

“Go Steve!”

It doesn’t escape Robin’s notice that the more encouraging remarks tend to be from female voices, while all of the jeers are male. At least one guy is whistling in support from the back of the room. Steve soaks it all up, the adoration and envy alike, with perfect, shining hair and a pageant smile.The student council president whose old lady name she can never remember shushes everybody so she can announce who won Queen as Steve waves to his adoring fans. Robin doesn’t know most of the nominees. They’re upperclassmen, cheerleaders and high achievers who’ve never given her a second glance.

“Heather Holloway!”

The pretty brunette in a nice pink dress gasps and slaps a hand over her mouth like she’s just won the lottery. People cheer just as loudly as they did for Steve, though nobody heckles her. Steve claps, whoops like he’s not onstage and still way too close to the microphone, and it makes her sick. Heather accepts her crown and sash gracefully before being whisked offstage by some muscular asshole who must be her boyfriend, and the DJ starts up “Time After Time.” Steve takes the stairs down, and Robin forces herself not to follow his path through the crowd. The shitty finger foods on her paper plate are far more interesting than Steve Harrington.

Robin likes Cyndi Lauper alright, but this song just… sucks. It just sucks. It sucks almost as badly as the stale crackers left on her plate now that she’s eaten all the grapes and cheese. God, what did she really expect, getting dropped off at prom by her parents to meet up with a bunch of friends? They ditched her to dance as soon as they got inside, and sure, maybe she could get up and join them, but it just… it just sucks. None of these stupid couples will last after high school, and the ones that do will end up miserable together, but there’s still a jealous pang in her chest whenever Robin looks up to see some girl’s nicely manicured hands laced behind some guy’s neck, the way their ties and dresses match and they lean in close to whisper right into each other’s ears.

“Wanna dance?” 

She looks up. The first thing she sees is a glint of light.

“With you?” Robin immediately pinches her own leg through the layers of polyester and tulle that her mother’s forced her into for the occasion. Shit, it stung. It actually stung.

Steve Harrington glances around like he might’ve missed somebody else in the conversation, light glinting off his crown, before shooting her a winning smile. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“No,” she says instinctively.

He frowns, and of course he does because the asshole could never even imagine somebody not wanting to be with him, but his eyes go a little dull, a little tired, a lot sad, and something seizes in her chest, and this is why Robin doesn’t always do well in social situations, because panic seizes her throat and stimulates her vocal cords without her permission.

“No, I meant I don’t mind! So I do. Want to dance.”

The sadness dissipates with an airy Steve Harrington laugh. The winning smile returns as he raises an eyebrow. “With me?”

“If  _ you  _ wouldn’t mind,” she says easily, shoving down the anxiety swirling in her gut and raising a hand because she’s read this script before. She must’ve delivered her line right, because Steve takes it, pulling her lightly to her feet and leading her out onto the dance floor. Her heart pounds faster as they weave their way to the center of the floor. So many people are looking at them already. There’s not a familiar face in sight, which should be statistically impossible for a school this size, but Robin doesn’t know any of these people as more than faces in the hall, and she really should have stuck to her instincts. Why did she take back the “no?” That was the smartest “no” in the history of the world, and she went and screwed it up like she always does.

Steve taps someone on the shoulder, and tugs her through a wall of people, and suddenly they’re right by the stage. Nestled between the speakers it’s almost… intimate. The music is loud, but the people aren’t so much. It’s better. Steve smiles softly as he arranges her arms, taking one hand gently in his own and placing the other on his shoulder. He moves his own hand slowly to her waist, like he’s waiting for her to stop him, and she can’t help but snort. 

He makes a face at her and grips her waist properly. “Alright, alright.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I said I’d dance, right?”

“Jeez, I can’t be polite?”

There he is. Steve “the Hair” Harrington, asshole extraordinaire. She knew he’d come out sooner rather than later. 

“...Why me?” Robin asks, “Steve Harrington couldn’t get a date to the prom?”

She almost regrets her harsh tone when he averts his gaze, pretending to be interested in whatever’s going on over in the little photo studio in the corner of the room. Steve sighs.

“Well, I saw you admiring me all night,” he says with a wry grin, neck craned just a bit, eyes fixed in the corner. Robin’s stomach fills with lead. He’s gonna Carrie her. This is a Carrie somehow. It has to be.

His eyes flick back towards her as he chuckles, then they flick away, still focused on something over her shoulder. It feels cruel, nothing like the laugh she heard earlier, and the hand on her waist is hot like a brand, and he must feel how sweaty her hand is, and this is when he’ll tighten his grip and —

“Kidding. Uh, I don’t know. You looked about as miserable as I am, I guess.”

“What?”

Steve swallows. He finally meets her eyes with a weak grin. “Didn’t want to bring someone down with my shitty mood, but I have to dance. So I figured maybe you wouldn’t mind taking a spin and helping me out. Can’t be worse than just sitting around, right?”

“That’s a pretty big assumption.”

He blinks at her. He smiles, really smiles, and tugs her closer so that they might be able to rest their heads on each other’s shoulders, if they wanted to. She doesn’t.

“What’s your name?” he asks conversationally, like she can’t feel his breath on her shoulder and his hand in hers.

“Robin,” she says, and it sounds so raspy, he probably thinks she’s, like, into this or something, which is pretty much as far from the truth as humanly possible. How did this even happen? She’s been facing the stage most of the time, but Steve has been rotating them as he slowly sways, and now she can see some faces out in the crowd. A few are familiar. A lot are looking at her.

“I’m Steve.”

“No shit,” she bites out, fighting the urge to dig her fingers into his shoulder in the hope of bruising it.

“Okay, yeah,” Steve says placatingly, “Obviously you know that. Uh, you look familiar.”

“Click’s class. You sat, like, right in front of me.”

“Oh. Really?” Steve sounds genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, really.”

“Shit,” he whispers, and she probably wasn’t supposed to hear it, the music as loud as it is, but his mouth is, like, right next to her ear, and it’s not her fault that Harrington doesn’t understand how sound works.

She scoffs. “Relax. I didn’t really expect you to remember me. You never really even looked at me.”

“No, it’s not — ” Steve sighs, and she feels more than sees it when he shakes his head. All she can see is the crowd. There’s Catherine, and Ally, and Jeremy and David and Rachel, all looking at her. He’s stopped rotating them now, sticking to the slow sway, so she’s stuck unless she wants to force him, and instinct tells her that Steve Harrington isn’t someone who lets people force him to do anything.

“ ... just don’t remember a lot of shit, now.”

Her attention snaps back to Steve, to his hand on her waist and face nearly buried in her shoulder. “What?”

“Forget it.”

“Why the shitty mood?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Tammy Thompson’s wearing blue. Her dress is… awful, honestly, it’s horrendous, like a big blue garbage bag, but she wears it well, like with a smile and a toss of her hair she could make an actual garbage bag look even better.

“Alright,” she finds herself saying. “Then ask.”

“...Okay. So, Robin,” he says, deftly maneuvering the clammy hand he’s cupped in his own so that their fingers are entwined, “Why the shitty mood?”

Tammy’s dancing with Sam Reynolds. They’re just friends, Robin’s pretty sure, or at least they’re nothing serious, but it hurts all the same. She’s absolutely glowing.

“Well, as you can see, I came alone.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a good time,” Steve counters. “There’s music, and food, and you look absolutely gorgeous.”

Robin can’t help how her face scrunches in disgust. Steve must feel her tense up, because he huffs out a laugh.

“Calm down, I’m not, like, coming on to you. But I can see, you know.”

Tammy looks away from Sam.

Their eyes meet.

Robin freezes, or she tries to, but Steve loosens his grip on her hand and it’s enough to jolt her back into reality. She squeezes both his hand and his shoulder, probably a little too tight, but if it bothers him he doesn’t say anything. Tammy is still looking. 

“I didn’t come with the person I wanted to,” she says. It’s the truth, but it leaves the same sharp, sick aftertaste as a lie. An opening. Asking to get caught.

“Guess I don’t have to give you my answer now,” Steve says lightly. 

“Yeah?” she asks. 

Tammy’s lipstick is just on the tasteful side of pink. Just a bit brighter, just a bit more eye makeup, and it would be garish, but of course it isn’t, because it’s Tammy. She licks her lips, so quickly Robin can barely even see. What does her lipstick taste like? Is it bitter? Or is it decent enough that she can wet her lips whenever she’d like without worrying about washing the taste out of her mouth later? She’ll wear it away, then, and Robin can’t help picturing it, Tammy leaning in close to the mirror to reapply, and what if they ran into each other in the ladies’ room, and Tammy asked if she could be a doll and help her out? 

“Well, no point in repeating ourselves.” Steve takes a harsh breath, and it’s weird, being so close to another person that she can feel his chest expanding just a bit more than it has been. They’re so close, and she should be uncomfortable, and she is, technically, in the sense that her shoes are pinching and her dress is hot and the whole room smells like sweat, but Steve’s hand in hers isn’t too bad. Pathetically enough, it’s almost nice. She’s so desperate and lonely that even Steve “the Hair” Harrington holding her hand is a comfort. 

Tammy hasn’t broken eye contact yet. There’s something in her gaze, though, something Robin’s never seen directed at herself before. Tammy frowns at her, pulls Sam in close, and shuts her eyes as she continues to dance. 

No point in repeating themselves. She might be hopeless, but Steve Harrington didn’t get the girl, either.

“That’s really it? You just won Prom King, and you can’t get over whatever girl turned you down this week?” 

“You know, you’re kinda harsh, Robin.”

Robin might be hopeless, but she also has a mean streak. She shrugs, and Steve’s hand moves from her waist to rest on her back, like he might pull her into a hug at any minute, and it feels better. Less performative. 

He continues, “I don’t think that’s really it for you either.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, there’s your answer.”

Robin shakes her head. “You know, you can’t just keep dodging questions with other questions forever.”

“Who said anything about forever? The song’s at least halfway over.”

She hums like she’s disappointed. “One and done, huh?”

It’s the third time Steve’s laughed since they first started talking, and this one makes Robin smile too. He shoves his forehead against her shoulder for a second, shaking, before he lifts his head again and says, “We really never talked in Click’s class?”

“Uh, not unless you count that time I dropped my paper and you said, hey, is this yours, and I said yeah, and you handed it back to me. That was pretty much it.”

“What a waste,” Steve says.

He says it like he means it. Like he really regrets not talking to her. She kind of believes him.

“What’s the other reason, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I came alone and I’m going straight home afterwards because I’m failing pre-calc and I have remedial work to do. These shoes barely fit. I can’t sleep, I can’t remember most of last semester, and I can’t go anywhere near the picture line without feeling like I’m gonna throw up. And I’m pretty sure half the basketball team just campaigned for me because they knew all the girls up for Queen already had boyfriends and I didn’t have a date. It’s funny for them, you know? Makes me look like even more of a loser.”

There’s… a lot there, but he rushed through the stuff in the middle, and something tells her that he sandwiched those things for a reason. What’s his problem with pictures? Does he mean he can’t sleep like he’s up all night tossing and turning, or like he’s torn awake by night terrors? Did he forget most of what he learned last semester, or like, most of what happened over those few months? It’s just… a lot, too much, and none of it really makes sense.

So Robin rolls her eyes. “You know, dancing with me isn’t really gonna help you with looking like a loser.”

“Jesus, shut up. Like you’re not cooler than all the girls in here. You know this is all stupid. This shit is who I am, but it’s not who you are. So why do you care so much?”

Steve Harrington is just as irritating as ever when he’s being nice. Maybe even moreso. 

“Oh, you know who I am?”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

She wants to challenge him.  _ Tell me _ , she’d say,  _ go on, I’m listening. I want to hear what you think. What do you see when you look at me, huh? What do you hear when I talk to you? Do you know what I want? What I’m afraid of? Who I want to be, and what I’m terrified of becoming? Do you hear it when I cry every night? Tell me, Steve, where does the weight of the world sit on you? Is it crushing your chest, too? Or does it sit nice and high up on your shoulders? Go on, tell me. Who does the great Steve Harrington think I am? _

But some questions don’t need to be answered. Besides, those questions are meant for the great Steve Harrington, and this guy is… something else. Something sadder. 

“... It’s not really about them,” she tries. “Or it… it won’t be. It is, right now. But it’ll be about someone else eventually.”

“That’s… good, right?”

“No,” she says plainly. “It’s gonna be the same way then, too.”

“What makes you think that?”

Robin tries to laugh. It feels like more of a sob. “Call it instinct.”

“Time After Time” fades into something energetic and upbeat. It’s probably big right now, based on how everyone reacts by immediately breaking away from their partners to form big dance groups with their friends, but Robin must be listening to her Walkman too much, because she swears she’s never heard it before in her life.

“Well,” Steve says, not letting go, continuing to sway, “I think your instincts are bullshit.”

“Don’t,” she chokes, “Please.”

Steve unwinds their fingers, and it almost hurts, but then he pulls her into a hug, one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. She reciprocates without thinking, pressing her face against the fine material of his suit jacket. He’ll probably have to wipe her makeup off later.

“Look,” he says, and his voice wavers, just for a moment. “I know… Hawkins sucks. It really fucking sucks, more than anyone realizes. But you don’t. It’s not… we just met, basically, but I know that whatever it is, you’re not the problem. Okay? It’s just… other people.”

He doesn’t know. He can’t. He can’t, or he wouldn’t be holding her like this, and saying these words, and treating her like... 

“Other people suck,” she says.

Steve’s shoulders slump forward, and she realizes that he’s been tense all night. Their hug feels different, now. More like the hugs that her mom used to give her when she was little and she couldn’t sleep. The music is a blanket of noise around them, her eyes shut and face tilted down into Steve’s shoulder, and Robin could almost forget they were in the same gym where she plays dodgeball on Thursdays. Fifty feet away from the locker room with the tiles she’s memorized, with the forty-six holes in the drain on the floor and the small remnant of somebody’s old gum stuck in the grout. They’re standing in warmth, and sound, and maybe it’s a veil of denial or ignorance but Robin can’t really bring herself to care when it lets her believe that maybe someone understands.

“Get a room!”

“Fuck off,” Steve lifts his head to shout at whoever said it, and Robin flinches. 

She opens her eyes. She lifts her head. She takes a step back.

“Robin?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Steve leans in to speak clearly over the music.

Shaking out her shoulders and forcing herself to smile, she says, “Yeah. I think I ruined your suit, though.”

He frowns, glances at his shoulder, and laughs at the perfect imprint of Robin’s face loud enough that some nearby dancers turn their heads for a moment. It’s a nice sound. It makes Robin want to laugh, too.

“You want to get out of here?”

Fuck.

“I’m not…” she says, glancing back toward the table Steve had approached her at. None of her friends have since sat down.

He runs a hand through his hair, dislodging the crown and then fumbling awkwardly to save it before it falls onto the floor. He settles it at a crooked angle on his head and Robin snorts.

“Not like that, geez. I’m not even looking for anything —” He cuts himself off. 

Steve takes a breath and continues. “ I just… we could get burgers, or something. You’re paying, obviously,” Steve says as he gestures to the makeup stain, but his fidgeting hands betray his confident tone.

There’s no way this doesn’t end badly. No way that Steve Harrington doesn’t try to make a move on her, or somehow figure out she’s a raging lesbian, or drive her out to an old abandoned farmhouse and turn her skin into a suit.

Robin hasn’t felt this good all night. She’s on the brink of tears, but she hasn’t felt this good in weeks, maybe fucking years, and if there’s just the slightest chance that she might actually just go and get burgers with a friend and make her junior prom a night to  _ actually  _ remember… well, she’s willing to take that chance.

“I’ll pay my half, obviously.”

Steve grins. “Then come on, my Queen. Or, uh, princess, or whatever a king’s, like, friend —”

“Are you trying to say my chariot awaits?”

Steve presses his lips together. “...No?”

Robin rolls her eyes as she holds out her arm, and Steve takes it. “Come on, Your Highness. Our totally platonic chariot awaits.”

This time, they laugh together, and Robin doesn’t bother to think about whether it was the fourth time or the fifth. She’ll hear it way too many times to count. 

**Author's Note:**

> so... ever since steve said something about how in high school he behaved a certain way because he was "afraid he wouldn't win prom king or whatever" i've been thinking about prom king steve... i KNOW i basically did this already in my other fic "you see right through me" okay i KNOW!!!
> 
> i was just thinking about how being alone during prom is this very intense, unique experience. you're just feeling raw and everybody's dressed up and the music is a little too loud and nothing's quite right. you've been told that tonight should be one of the best nights of your life, but it isn't, and you're just alone in your nice suit or pretty dress wondering when Prom is gonna kick in. you feel almost as if you're in some other reality or living somebody else's life, but it's You, and when all you have is that too-loud music and the dim party lights and masses of people all moving around you.... all you really have is yourself in the midst of it all, and what if somebody saw you like that? so that's basically where this little fic came from.
> 
> anyways this is dedicated to my love sarah (who is no longer mjonlirbreaker on here and is now birthdaycandles!!!) because i feel like it. title from prom dress by mxmtoon. please leave a comment or come chat with me @lesbianrobin on tumblr if you liked this fic!!


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